a surrender - 64

(Continuing "a surrender", chapter eight)

 

where is God?

 

Waiting for the doctor in the brightly lit examination room, we were nervous with anticipation. This was the day we would get to see our baby. The doctor finally came in, explained how the ultrasound worked, and then started the procedure. Our eyes eagerly searched the video image. It was hard to decipher what we were seeing.

The doctor seemed puzzled also. Then she said she was sorry. It seemed that there wasn’t anything there. Sometimes, the doctor told us, early in a pregnancy, the baby stops developing for some reason. It was fairly common, she said.

But it wasn’t common for us. We were stunned. I couldn’t believe it. We walked mechanically out of the doctor’s office and drove home, not knowing what to say to each other, except I love you.

In the days that followed, I kept hoping that the doctor was somehow mistaken. She had said we should expect a miscarriage in the coming days. But I prayed for some kind of miracle. Heather’s pregnancy had seemed like such a gift that I couldn’t believe it was for nothing. I felt like I had to keep believing, that I shouldn’t let go.

But then the pain came. Heather woke up very early one morning with abdominal cramps and some sharper pains, and she couldn’t go back to sleep. She got out of bed and tried to watch a movie to take her mind off it. But after an hour the pain was much worse, so she woke me and said we should go to the hospital. We didn’t have a car. I quickly went to another family’s house, and had to go in and knock on their bedroom door to wake them and ask to borrow their car. By the time I got back, Heather’s pain was worse. Then, when I tried to get her to move, she passed out.

I didn’t know what to do.

Should I try to carry her to the car? Could I make it? Was it even safe? My mind was whirling frantically. How long had she been unconscious?

Then slowly her eyes opened.

And she said the pain was less now. We decided to wait a little while, and gradually she felt better. Relieved, I returned the car to our neighbor; but walking back home, I was angry and crying. Losing the baby wasn’t enough, we had to go through this agony too? Why?

Where was God?

Continued... 

a surrender - 63

(Continuing "a surrender", chapter seven, "freely have you received, freely give") 

Throughout these years on the farm, in our retreats and also in our other work, we remembered what Jesus had told his followers: “Freely have you received, freely give.” Jesus had helped people in many ways, and had always offered his help for free. This meant he could do the work he felt was best, for the people who needed it most, without worrying whether he would get paid for it. He could be single-minded in his work, focusing only on the needs of the people he was serving. He didn’t need to think about what he would get out of it, because God would take care of his needs. “Do not seek what you are to eat and what you are to drink, nor be worried,” Jesus told his followers, “for everyone seeks after these things, and your Father knows that you need them.” And God did provide all that Jesus needed, in a variety of ways. Many people welcomed him into their homes, and fed him at their tables. People sometimes gave him money, though he didn’t ask for it. Jesus cared for others, and others cared for him—not because they had to, but because they loved him. So everything he received was a gift, an act of love. And he stayed poor and humble, always dependent on that love, as God inspired it. How wondrously different this was from the way work and business are usually done! I had to find out if this was possible for me. And Heather agreed. So we didn’t ask for any payment for our work on the farm, and we tried to live on what the community, and others, offered to give us.

We knew living this way seemed unlikely to work for long. And the added needs of a family made it seem even less likely. We lived simply and kept our needs low. But we knew it would be impossible to “freely give” and still get everything we needed unless God was supporting us. People warned us that it wouldn’t work. That was scary to contemplate, especially now that Heather was dependent on this with me. But we believed God could make it work. We were also encouraged and inspired by the generosity of friends and family. And by the people who came for our retreats. If they could trust the power of God to drive away their demons, we could trust our lives to that power as well.

And, somehow, it did work. The community didn’t charge us for our housing, or for the retreat space. People shared rides in their cars. Good, fresh food came from the farm and from Heather’s own garden. A dentist friend offered his services at a generous discount. Medical care was free because our income was so low. And many different people donated money, for our use and for our retreats.

After four years on the farm, we began feeling that our life was stable enough to try to have a child. And a few weeks later, we found out that Heather was pregnant. It was good timing. The child should come soon after the farming season ended. We looked forward to that day with joy and eagerness.

 

Continued...

a surrender - 62

(Continuing "a surrender", chapter seven, "freely have you received, freely give") 

The men on that first retreat had very hard lives. Most of them were homeless. They had to fend for themselves every day on the streets of the city. One of the men said he identified with the man in Heather’s story, who clung to his demons because they made him strong and they made people fear him. Being feared felt better than being despised.

We were very encouraged after that first retreat. The men had been interested, and eager to talk about their lives and listen to the others. They were grateful for the good food, the rest, and the quiet. And we parted as friends. The experience was inspiring and energizing for us as well, even more than we had hoped. It felt like proclaiming good news to the poor, like Jesus did.

We made lots of new friends during the many retreats at the farm, over the next eleven years. And several of them came back again and again. It was good to see how their lives had changed, and how God was helping them.

Most of our time on the farm, though, was spent helping the community there in various ways. We planted long rows of strawberries, weeded them, picked the berries when they were ripe and sweet, and then covered them with straw for the winter. We weeded and mulched row after row of blueberry bushes, and filled buckets with the berries, plump and delicious. Heather helped tend the huge vegetable garden. And I would drive a truck to the city once a week, to take the vegetables and berries to our friends in the community there. In the winter, we would help cut and split fallen trees, so the wood could season for a year before it was needed to heat houses the following winter. And several days a week I helped make bread and cookies in the community bakery. Most of the bread and produce from the farm was sold at markets, but we also got to enjoy many of those good things ourselves.

As needs arose in the community, we learned new skills to help in other ways. When one of the older men was no longer able to get into his wheelchair by himself, I started visiting him each day to move him, and help with meals and washing and simple medical care. When another member started having trouble with memory, I learned some basic bookkeeping. I also learned to do some of the routine maintenance needed for the homes on the farm. Heather eventually took over managing the large vegetable garden, and learned how to prune the fruit trees and the vineyard. Another man’s back pain was worsening, so I started doing all the mowing. And I learned how to maintain all the shared network equipment; a complicated system was required to provide internet access to our many homes out in the country. It felt good to be able to help, and we were learning useful skills.

Continued... 

a surrender - 61

(Continuing "a surrender", chapter seven, "freely have you received, freely give") 

On the strangely clear horizon there is a sail, coming closer, riding before the wind. I rise to my feet and stare. Someone’s made it through the storm!

They won’t come here, though they seem to be headed for it. No boat makes landfall here. They know what sort of place it is. The boat does not turn, the sail stays steady, grows bigger by the moment. Fear starts to rise in me. Who are these men? They come here—to this cursed place—they’re headed straight for me—through the middle of the worst storm of the year, and with them comes the sun and calm; something’s not right. They are pulling into shore, reefing in the sail, it’s dripping; their boat gleams wet in the sun, the water still sloshes in the bottom of it; they’re still bailing! They were right in the middle of that—and now they’re here.

And one of them has seen me.

I stand tall. I am Legion. They will remember this day.

One of them points, shouts, jumps back in the boat; but the first one acts as if he has not heard. He is coming. As he comes he is looking at me, straight at me, he sees nothing but me.

Legion rises screaming, shrieking, thousands of voices strong; they see him, they see that he sees me—that he sees them. Who is this man? A wild fear and a wild hope rise in me like the wind and another voice drowns out the voice of Legion in my mind, a voice that cracks like a whip: Come OUT of him!

Legion yelps like a kicked dog, then screams again and charges, takes me running, running at him as fast as I can with my tangled hair whipping, a rock still in my hand. I can feel their thousands, thousands of feet trampling me, but I look up and before I am lost to myself I see his face, his eyes, and I see the thing that I will never forget.

He is not afraid.

 

Continued...